


Vantage Point

by midnightweeds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessions, Crushes, F/M, Flirting, Forehead Kisses, Haircuts, Innuendo, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Requited Love, Sirius Black Lives, Sirius Black is a Flirt, Teasing, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightweeds/pseuds/midnightweeds
Summary: “You’re the one who suggested I meditate on the things I desire. That I take my time in this ‘second chance.’ That I not just fall anywhere.”She set her mug back down, hand smoothing over her hair and down her ponytail, twisting her curls around her finger as she decided whether she’d be upset about his statement. At length, she asked, “And you’ve landed on me?”
Relationships: Sirius Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 4
Kudos: 151





	Vantage Point

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on tumblr

“Sirius,” Hermione gasped, hand against her chest as she leaned on the counter. “Merlin. You scared me.”

As he phased from Padfoot, she transfigured a dishrag into a pair of pajama bottoms, holding them out to him as she tucked her wand back into her waistband.

“Looking to get yourself stunned?” She teased, stirring honey into her tea.

“I’m always here at night,” he told her, leaning next to her at the counter. In a thoughtless display of magic, he pulled a mug from the cabinet and scooped some loose chamomile into a tea ball. “Would you mind pouring for me?”

She lifted the kettle, frowning as she asked, “You make it a habit of just hanging out in the kitchen at eleven in the evening?”

He smirked at her, eyes smoothing over her face. After a moment, he lifted his hand as though he was going to touch her, and Hermione felt butterflies in her stomach, jumpy and fluttering. But, he thought better of it, and drew his fingers through his curls instead, pushing them back over his shoulders.

“You need a haircut,” she told him offhandedly, hand trembling as she filled his cup with water.

He hummed in recognition of her comment, but said, “I noticed that a certain witch likes a cup of tea when she gets out of the shower.”

“You turn it on for me?”

He shrugged, turning to spoon too much sugar into his tea.

“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling her cheeks grow hot as she watched him. “I always thought you’d just made yourself a cup.”

“No need for thanks,” he told her. “It’s completely selfish of me, of course.”

“Is it?” She questioned, sipping her tea.

“Phasing gives me the best view of your legs in the house. For a full five minutes.”

She laughed at his roguish grin. “You perv!”

“It’s the small pleasures, my dear Hermione.”

She watched as he sipped his tea, eyes lifting to see he was watching her just as pointedly. “I guess it is, huh?”

“It helps that I like the way you smell- always, but especially when you take a shower without washing your hair.”

“Sirius-”

“Like apples and honey.” He did touch her this time, running the warm tip of his finger down from her wrist to her elbow. “But musky, too. Like the earth after the rain.”

He encouraged her to put her cup down and leaned in, lips brushing her forehead as he inhaled the scent of her hair, and Hermione felt herself flush. “Would you mind giving me one?”

“A haircut?” She questioned, eyes closing at his nearness. Sirius barely respected personal boundaries, but he felt so close now, and her empty hands longed for his warmth in the cold air of the kitchen. “You don’t want me to do that,” she told him, barely moving as she opened her eyes and focused on his throat.

He drew an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close even as he pulled away to look at her. His eyes looked like the moon, and she imagined she understood how devastating it was to be a wolf. It was _horrible_.

“Please?”

“Ok,” she agreed, and he grinned, a slow pull of his lips over teeth that left Hermione hyperaware-

Of him, the moment, herself. She’d be lying if she said she’d ever thought she’d be here, but she’d imagined it. A hundred times over, at least. Sirius’ arms had always seemed like a safe and warm place, even if he was a little more reckless then she cared for.

He let go of her, fingers drawing along the smooth fabric of her open robe, and set his mug down on the counter. After a moment, he stepped away from her, looking through the drawers for a pair of scissors.

“I have some in my room,” she told her, but he waved his hand to tell her not to bother, brandishing a large pair of hair scissors and a comb just a moment later.

As he magicked a chair to an empty part of the kitchen, Hermione took another sip of her tea and asked, “How long have you been planning this, then?”

He smirked at her, “For some time.”

At her smile, he chuckled, watching as she set her mug next to his.

She casted a stasis before asking, “How short?”

His hair had grown halfway down his back, and when he wasn’t an overly shaggy Padfoot, he was convincing someone to braid his long curls for him, or twisting them into a bun that sometimes rivaled Hermione’s. She and the boys had been trying to convince him to cut it for years, but it made him popular with the witches, and Sirius enjoyed the attention.

“Shoulders, I think.” He pressed the comb and scissors into her hand and sat down, eyes tracking her as she took off her robe and tossed it over the back of another chair. “What do you think?”

“Shoulders if you plan on chasing skirts with Ron and Harry.”

He laughed. “And if I plan on staying home?”

Her brows rose, fingers chopping the blades through the air at her side as she considered him. “You’ve found someone to settle down with?” With more confidence than she really had, she asked, “Am I the last to know?”

He grinned at her, grey eyes dancing. “It would seem so.”

“Are you fucking with me, Sirius?”

“I’d certainly like to be.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping around him. “Shoulders it is, then.”

Sirius’ curls were soft to the touch, slipping through her fingers even in their messy state. She marveled at them, watching as they bounced back into place. As she combed his hair, she was surprised as it softened to waves, and she took the scissors to them just a moment later, chopping away inch by inch.

“They’re a little dull,” she commented, shifting in front of him when she was satisfied with its length. “The scissors, not your curls. They look much better, actually.”

He gave a shake of his head, allowing his hair to fall the way he’d wear it, and she leaned in to trim the ends a little more, attempting to even them out.

“Go all the way,” he told once she’d stood back to observe him.

Her brows rose, eyes bouncing back and forth between his. She’d never known him with short hair, and could barely fathom it. “Are you certain?”

He shrugged, as though it didn’t matter either way, but said, “Yeah. I’m sure, Hermione.”

Hermione bit her lip, and he swore, standing up suddenly. She felt his magic pass over them, vanishing the scissors and comb and hair. “Wha-”

He took her face in his hands, grey eyes meeting hers intensely, and Sirius gave her less than a second to stop him before he swiped her chin with his thumb. Before he leaned in. Before his lips pressed, warm and sure against her bottom lip. Against her upper lip.

“Sirius,” she breathed, and he kissed her surely, mouth sickeningly sweet against hers.

It was Hermione who pressed for more, her tongue swiping his mouth as she lifted onto her tip-toes, arms circling his neck and body pressing firmly into his. Sirius smiled, teeth obnoxiously knocking into hers before his tongue found hers.

“I’ve been waiting for to do that for a while,” he told her once they’d had their fill of each other. His hands had found their way over her body, settling on her hips and staying there.

She rested her head on his shoulder, turning her face into his throat and taking a deep breath of him. “You mean you’ve been wasting time.”

He chuckled, and the sound passed through her, causing her to shiver against him. “None of that,” he murmured, squeezing her waist before pulling away from her. His eyes were cloudy when they met hers, skin slightly flushed. “Not if you want to do this properly.”

Separated from him, Hermione was reminded that she was in her pajamas. That he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His body was littered with scars and tattoos, and she noticed two, tiny new additions in the curve of his shoulder: a constellation she knew to be the lion, Regulus’ star seeming to eat the light of the room; and something that looked eerily like Harry’s scar, thin and red against his skin. It made her wish she’d transfigured the dish sponge into a shirt.

“Coming from the animagus who creeps around from his kitchen vantage point.”

Sirius grinned, taking her hand in his and pulling her back toward the counter. He didn’t let go as he passed her tea, sipping his leisurely as his eyes moved over every inch of her face, slow and indulgent. As her face grew warm with color, he said, “You’re the one who suggested I meditate on the things I desire. That I take my time in this ‘second chance.’ That I not just fall anywhere.”

She set her mug back down, hand smoothing over her hair and down her ponytail, twisting her curls around her finger as she decided whether she’d be upset about his statement. At length, she asked, “And you’ve landed on me?”

He was still grinning, eyes dancing, but she could feel the gentle tremble in his hand.

“So it would seem, Hermione.”

She nodded slowly, letting go of his hand.

His swallow was audible. “Hopefully I’ve read the situation correctly.”

Hermione hummed, taking his cup out of his sand and setting it once again on the counter. Closing the breath of space between them, she pressed herself into him, body heavy and arms tight as they wound around his waist and crept up his back. Sirius groaned, lifting his chin to allow her better access as she peppered his neck with kisses, his arms moving to reposition them.

“You’ve wasted too much time to do this properly, Sirius,” she told him, voice low in her throat.

He chuckled, arm around her waist as he lifted her, turning to put her on the edge of the counter. His fingers snuck under her camisole and splayed over her hip, hot against her bare skin, and he drew his free hand up her arm, taking hold of her jaw as his eyes landed on hers. With a small shift of his hips, one that allows her to feel the length of him against her center, he watched as her eyes widened in brief surprise before glazing with lust. Her legs tightened around his, and both were sure there was no place they’d rather be than lost in each other.

“I’m glad you feel that same way, Hermione.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading
> 
> x, weeds


End file.
